


When I see you again

by Analinea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, De-Aged Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Not Canon Compliant, Season 3a AR, Witch - Freeform, alpha pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 00:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9048898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analinea/pseuds/Analinea
Summary: There's a lot of big things happening, but maybe Derek will get out of it with more than he had before.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BulletBlaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletBlaze/gifts).



> MERRY CHRISTMAS CAMI <3 you've been a wonderful co-pilot on this story :3

Derek is enjoying a hot cup of coffee, sitting in a patch of sunlight that comes through the window to hit the perfect spot on the couch. For anyone else it would be an averagely good beginning for the day, for Derek it’s heaven.

Especially considering that he was up all night again, looking for Erica and Boyd.

That's why when his phone rings, it puts him immediately in a very bad mood. He doesn't even have any hope, because nothing good ever comes from a phone call.

It’s Scott ringtone, the one that Stiles tried to change to some stupid song but Derek caught him before it could happen.

“Derek?” his voice, a little too high, a little too panicky for Derek’s taste, comes through the receiver. “There’s a problem,” he continues, and Derek just has time to open his mouth before he finishes with, “it’s Stiles.”

Derek barely gets out, “Wha–” before Scott says, “Hey, no, don’t,” to someone on his side of the phone call, just before it disconnects.

Derek freezes for two seconds before looking at his phone like it betrayed him. Then panic hits him like a tsunami. Something happened to Stiles. Something–

Dread starts to form in the center of his chest, freezing his heart and his lungs, and he gets the fleeting thought that he’ll suffocate with fear. His freak out lasts for about ten seconds before he gets up from the couch, not even worrying about the coffee that spills on the floor, vaguely remembers to take his jacket and his keys, and then he’s out the door.

 

He runs down the stairs and raises his head when he's out the door. Skids to a stop, eyes widening. And now he’s about to have the nervous breakdown of the century because something’s wrong with Stiles and…

Erica and Boyd stand right in front of him, a bit roughed up, but okay. Alive. Smiling shyly.

He doesn’t know what to do for a second, but then his brain is so fried up that old reflexes -before the fire reflexes- come back online and he runs to them.

Gives them the hug of the century.

They smell so good under the grime and the sweat and the faint trace of blood. Like Pack, a part of him that was missing. But he doesn’t forget what he was out to do.

He breaks the hug.

“I have to go, but you should rest,” Derek rapidly doesn't explain.

Erica and Boyd exchange a look, then turn back to him with raised eyebrows that mean _in your dreams old man_. He feels like he's the one to blame for teaching them that attitude.

“We’re coming,” Erica says, already moving towards the Camaro, “what’s the deal?”

Derek curses the timing, because he wants to know what happened to them and they deserve to have his full attention right now. “Scott called, something happened to Stiles.”

Erica and Boyd glance at each other over the car, but Derek doesn’t have time to wonder the meaning of their silent exchange. He ponders; best bet is to start at the McCall house and tear Scott a new one for hanging up like that and never answering Derek’s frantic calls back when he was making his way down the stairs.

A few minutes and broken traffic law later, Derek pulls up in front of the McCall house. All three wolves in the car turn their head slightly so one ear faces it, but...there’s not a single heartbeat inside.

Any other day, Derek would’ve gotten out of the car to check the house anyway: there’s a deadly difference between silent and empty. But today he can’t. He can’t bring himself to open the Camaro’s door.

When he speeds away, windows open to pick up a scent, anything, Erica and Boyd don’t say anything. They _know_. They don’t want to lose hope either.

The air inside the car is heavy with anxiety and the million gory scenarios running through their three minds.

Then, Derek’s head jerks and he glances at a side street. He turns the wheel sharply, pinning Boyd between Erica and the wall of the car.

They end up at Deaton’s. Derek wishes he’d be more surprised by that, but Scott’s first answer to everything is the vet. The Jeep is here, confirmation that Stiles is around. It’s not a good addition, 'Stiles' plus 'something happened' plus Deaton. Derek's not sure he'll like the result.

He worries a lot for the human, even if he doesn’t actually show it. Stiles could walk out at any moment and doesn’t -Derek says nothing about it, it’s not his choice to make- and if he’s not as vulnerable as he lets people think, he’s still more breakable than the wolves.

So Derek barges in, closely followed by Erica and Boyd. Scott turns around, manifestly trying to get his cracked phone to work again. Relief floods his features at Derek entrance, then confusion and relief when he sees Erica and Boyd.

Behind him, on an examination table, there’s a kid.

And Derek has a second to ask himself is Stiles has a little brother. Just before he gets it.

 

Derek takes a step. Stops.

“Wha–” he starts, even if he knows, can _smell_ it. It’s still impossible.

“Witch situation, she cursed Stiles,” Scott says, and Derek can’t tear his eyes away from the kid on the table, who should really look more surprised, more…more everything, really. Freaked out, excited, more _Stiles_. But he’s sitting there still and calm. Not even a smile on his face as he studies Derek.

“How did this…”

“We were…,” Scott sheepishly answers, glancing behind Derek, “looking for Erica and Boyd.”

The two shuffle in surprise, but don’t say anything. They're silent too, and Derek is not someone who talks a lot because he knows the significance of every word and every pause. So he doesn't like the absence of sounds from the people in the room, especially Erica and Stiles. He also feels anger for a short moment, at Scott and Stiles' the stupidity, before it’s washed away by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“It will go away on its own time,” Deaton pipes up, “it wasn’t meant to harm but to distract so she could make her exit.”

Derek still can’t help the growl. It sparks curiosity in Stiles’ eyes. Derek likes it better than the quiet from before. Scott get closer to him to speak to him away from the kid’s -Stiles, shit- ears.

“Could he stay with you until it’s over?” Scott whispers. Derek looks at him with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t really get it, but Scott’s eyes are pleading him. He glances back at Erica and Boyd, who really need to rest and have their Alpha's attention. Whatever happened to them could mean trouble to come, he doesn't have time for a desperate and mostly harmless curse from a witch that's probably already far away.

Derek looks back at Scott and tries to be discreet when he says, “Why?” but his voice carries, or maybe even de-aged Stiles’ tuned to Derek.

“Because last time I remember being in my house my dad was drunk,” Stiles says tonelessly, “and I don’t want to remind him of this time of our lives.”

Derek looks at the teen with a mix of surprise, horror, and shame that he was caught questioning why he had to keep him.

“If you don’t want to, I can go somewhere else,” Stiles finishes, and his eyes bore into Derek’s soul in a way he learned to hide when he got older. It’s very disconcerting.

Scott looks behind him then turns back to Derek making big eyes at him, then leans closer and whispers, “He hated coming to my house when my mom’s around, and she’s home today.” Stiles clears his throat to remind them that he’s in the room.

Derek and Scott look at each other for a second, and Derek suddenly realizes something that should’ve been obvious with what Stiles said about his dad, but hadn’t really been processed. This is Stiles just after his mother’s death.

It makes something in his chest tighten. So he nods. Stiles doesn’t smile, but relaxes, then hops down the table.

 

Isaac looks accusingly at Derek just before throwing himself at Erica and Boyd, meaning _why did I have to hear about this from Scott?_ Derek shrugs, lets them enjoy the moment. They’ll have a lot to talk about later, and he knows Isaac, once he's passed being relieved, will go back to being pissed off that he's been left him behind.

Stiles stays behind Derek in the entryway, watching them.

“You want something to eat?” Derek asks, not having completely forgotten how to take care of a teenager. Stiles shakes his head without looking away from the loud reunion. “Did Scott explained to you what happened?”

“I was seventeen and someone cursed me and now I’m twelve again,” Stiles looks at Derek with a faint smirk. “He wouldn’t tell me at first but it wasn’t hard to guess, Scott doesn’t have a cousin called Miguel and he’s the only one with a jaw that crooked.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, shouldn’t be so surprised that the bad lying techniques are actually shared between the boys. Stiles stops smiling and gets a very faraway look on his face.

“Erica, Boyd,” he says and they stop their talk with Isaac, “go get cleaned up a bit, we’ll make you something to eat. We have a lot to talk about.” He knows his tendency to sound harsh even when he didn’t mean to, so he softens his words with the best smile he can manage. It’s not much, but it seems to be enough.

While the other two are in the bathroom, Derek asks Stiles and Isaac to help him in the kitchen. He still remembers his Betas’ favorites, from eavesdropping in their late games of “what do you prefer”. He regrets never taking the time to give them all he heard them talk about, thinks that maybe they wouldn’t have left in the first place if he had been more of a human being than a tyrant.

Isaac looks at Stiles weirdly. “What...happened?” he asks with a tone of voice that Derek doesn’t really like. Isaac isn’t mean per say, he uses his sarcasm the same way Stiles does; and Derek knows he’s about to make some remark that Stiles, in the state he’s in and tries to hide, won’t be able to take kindly.

“He’s been de-aged by a witch,” Derek says with a hint of warning in his voice.

“Oh,” Isaac says more softly, “why is he here though?” he adds.

Stiles, who had been standing at the other end of the counter breaking eggs in a bowl without saying a word, turns to him.

“I know why I’m not home, but I don’t know who you all are, so I’d like to hear the answer too,” he asks Derek.

And Derek has no idea how to answer that. It could be simple: we’re Pack, the only ones to know about the supernatural so you ended up with us. That could turn tricky when Isaac wants to know why not Scott, who’s still Stiles best friend.

Derek could say: I’m the Alpha, it’s my responsibility. And then Isaac would shoot back with something along the lines of _since when do you take any responsibilities_ , and it would be unfair but too close to the truth and they would fight and–

But maybe Stiles doesn't even know about werewolves, just about the witch. And he could be more surprised by that than he is, honestly, it's a bit insulting. So maybe not go into details about supernatural stuff. It's no less difficult.

Because Derek can’t repeat what Scott said, can he, about Stiles not wanting to see Melissa? Which is still weird considering how he seems to adores the woman now.

And Derek can’t really confess that even before he got convinced to say yes he was considering it seriously. Because it’s _Stiles_ and he ran to get to him as soon as he heard there was something wrong and he still feels remnants of this anguish in his stomach. He can’t drop the fact that he suspected his feelings for the _teenager_ for some times now, on his _twelve years old self_.

So after a silence that stretched out into awkward, he finally says, “Because Scott had something important to do.”

They both leave it at that even if it's painfully obvious that it's a lame excuse.

Five minutes later, Erica and Boyd come back to a table already full of food. They sit down, wait for the three others to be around the table before taking a bite. By the look on their faces, they haven’t eaten correctly in some times.

“What happened?” Derek echoes Isaac’s question from earlier, hating that they have to have this discussion. If not now, they’ll avoid the subject until it’s a festering wound full of pain and secrets between them.

“We, uh…,” Erica starts, glances at Boyd who nods, “we got captured by a Pack. They were weird, they were all Alphas?” Derek tenses. Erica considers him and continues, “They asked us questions, but we didn’t answer, like–” she hesitates and glances at Stiles briefly. It’s enough for Derek to know that there’s something to be asked later about it.

“They roughed us up a bit, then let us go to tell you they were coming. They said to tell you they have something of yours. We had to walk for...fuck, I don’t even know how long. That’s it. That’s all we know.”

Derek stays silent for a second. “I was looking for you, _we_ ,” he points at Isaac, “were looking for you but we couldn’t track you. And apparently the two idiots were doing the same thing without us,” he doesn’t hide the reprove from his voice. Stiles shuffles on his chair and smirks. He doesn’t even know what they’re talking about but he finds his own recklessness funny or impressive. Or both. He’s a lost cause already.

Erica and Boyd look on the verge of tears, so Derek lets the Stiles issue go for now, but he plans a stern talking to when he’s back his own age. For now, he has his Betas back. So he tries his best to talk about anything else with Isaac and Stiles' help, and he's not exactly good at this but he's doing his best. Judging by Erica and Boyd's look, it's enough.

 

They’re all on the couch, and it should be suffocating for Derek but it somehow isn’t. He spent too much time cut away from his Pack: after his lost his family, after he lost Laura, after he bit teenagers and didn’t care for them correctly, after they left and he realized his mistake. It’s good to have the three of them next to him.

He doesn’t question the fact that Stiles, him being twelve or not, fits perfectly with them. He already knows all about that.

He’s feeling calmer than he has in ages, even with the threat hanging over their heads and the mysterious warning. They'll deal with that after a good night sleep.

Stiles was still unnaturally still and the Betas were weirded out by it too, judging by their attempts at making him _do something_. Even Isaac who spends half his life complaining about Stiles and the other half fighting him for Scott's attention.

Erica was the successful one, making Stiles light up as soon as the word “Batman” was out of her mouth. She went to grab the last comic she bought before leaving, from the box Derek religiously kept in the empty bedroom; now they’re both leaning over it without caring that Derek’s in the middle and trying to read his own book.

Stiles relaxes, smiles even, and it doesn’t ease the smell of grief that Derek couldn’t really place all afternoon, but it adds a hint of happiness to it. It’s good.

Then his phone rings. And it’s the Sheriff. He inwardly curses.

“Yes?” Derek says, not wanting to alert Stiles even if the wolves in the room already sensed the shift in their Alpha’s emotions. Erica’s voice falters for just a second in her excited rant about the comic, and she has a strain in her voice but she continues like nothing's happening, getting up to go on the other side of the couch and get Derek and the phone call some space.

Derek gets up when he hears only a deep breath being taken, knowing instantly something is very wrong.

There’s not much reason Sheriff Stilinski could be calling Derek, because he doesn’t know about the kind of life his son’s living, the hidden world Stiles’ mixed with. What Derek really is.

There’s no family to be announced dead anymore, and Scott said he’d cover up Stiles not going home for as long as possible. So even if Stiles’ dad thinks his kid is randomly best buds with Derek and his entourage of teenagers with family issues, he has no reason to believe Stiles is anywhere near the loft at this time.

“Hale,” the voice finally comes from the speaker, and there’s an edge of pain there that makes Derek tense up. He realizes the room’s grown silent behind his back, so Stiles probably caught up that something is happening.

“There’s, um...there’s a group of people in the station with me, and I won’t go into all the weird things about them that shouldn’t be possible but, uh, they’re asking that you come here,” there’s a beat of silence and a hitch in the Sheriff’s breath. “They found someone from your family,” Derek tenses up, barely restraining himself from cracking the phone in his grip, “they say you better come pick her up or your– your human toy won’t have parents anymore. What does that–”

The call disconnects before he has time to finish his sentence, and this time the screen shatters between Derek’s fingers. He can’t keep the growl in, and it makes his Betas instinctively answer.

The soft gasp makes them all flinch and stop, and Derek turns to see Stiles staring wide eyed at Erica's glowing eyes. The kid turns to Derek next, and the fear there hurts him to his very soul. It’s been a long time since he wanted to scare Stiles.

Now he’s scared for him. He doesn’t go after him when Stiles runs away and locks himself in the bathroom.

 

Stiles hates this. He hates every second of this...this whole...thing. He doesn’t really know what it is, pretended to fully understand when really, he just learned some times -years?- ago to go with the flow of events.

It’s how he’s so adaptable. Nothing bugs him, surprises him. It’s how he made himself as small as possible so his dad could take care of his mum instead of having to worry about the hyperactive kid on top of it.

But now it’s too much.

He found himself in a world where everyone -Scott- he knew was years older, like he time traveled and wouldn’t that be a dream. It would’ve been, any other time than two weeks after his mom’s funeral. When his dad couldn’t look at him without–

But as if it wasn’t enough that apparently witches could send someone back to the worse time in their lives, now the people that took him with them are freakishly scary.

Glowing eyes and fangs, out of a nightmare like the ones his mom used to wake him out of with a hug and hot cocoa.

There’s no one to do that right now.

Derek and Erica and the others were nice, they were actually very nice, so maybe they wouldn’t have hurt him. If he wasn’t so overwhelmed he would’ve taken the chance.

He just wants his dad now. It doesn’t matter that the last he saw of him was passed out on the couch, a half empty bottle of whiskey on the table, having to move his own father around so he wouldn’t die in his drunken unconsciousness. Stiles just want his strong arms around him, protecting him.

He figures that it’s been years since his mother died now. Surely things are better?

So, since he’s been left alone in the loft after Erica told him they had to leave and apologized, he gets out of the bathroom. Out of the loft. Down the stairs and into the street. He doesn’t really know this part of town but he follows the signs to a more recognizable part of town, and then he takes the familiar route. It’s a bit far on only his little legs, but it’s not too out of reach.

He gets there forty minutes later, out of breath and legs trembling. The station is lit and silent. Derek’s car is there, haphazardly parked, making him frown.

He opens the door.

 

The Camaro skids to a stop outside the station and Derek has to fight against himself to wait for his Betas to be out of the car before rushing into the building. It’s not only that this Pack of Alphas has taken Erica and Boyd so easily, teasing him by releasing them like this with a message, it’s also what the Sheriff said.

They claim to have someone from his _family_. His heart is in his throat, he can barely breathe past the hope and desperation and fear. He’s terrified that it’s a lie but even more that it’s true and he could lose someone as soon as he found them again.

Or it could just be Peter who’s playing the Alpha Pack’s game and having fun with this. But for all his viciousness, Peter is not one to play with their family’s death. And they said _her_.

And then, Derek can’t help the terror he feels at the idea of the Sheriff being in danger. It’s Stiles' last parent, and he knows all too well what losing them is like. Something in his chest cracks and threatens to crumble at the thought of twelve years old Stiles, so subdued and quiet compared to his older self; and the fact that this part of him is still under all the words and flailing, hidden by it and just waiting under the surface to come back out again and swallow him whole.

He can’t let that happen. He starts to understand why the idea is as unbearable as the fact that this Pack probably has one member of his family with them that he thought was long dead. So he’s going to do everything he can to prevent it.

They rush in. Everything is dead silent, except for a few heartbeats; a mix of rapid and calm rhythms.

The smell of blood is overwhelming.

Derek ignores the bodies, ignores the fact that this is more deaths on his hands, no matter how indirectly. It’s going to be hard to find volunteers to work in Beacon Hills after this, the second massacre at the Sheriff's station.

They run to the holding area, stop at the door. There’s a cell with the Sheriff in, beaten but not too badly; a big bald guy holding him by the throat, claws out.

There’s twins that look to be between eighteen and twenty; a woman with a smirk and claws on her bare toes leaning against a wall; a blind man that immediately feels like the leader, sitting on the bench calmly. And behind them in the second cell, there's…

Cora.

Derek sees red and the logical part of his brain is shut off momentarily as he lunges at the closest Alpha : the woman. His howl makes the walls vibrate but he doesn't notice, doesn't even remember that his Betas are in the room with him.

The only thing that makes him stop, aside from the deadly grip on his throat, is the choking sound coming from the other cell. The main Alpha tuts disapprovingly.

“Now now, we wouldn't want a terrible accident to happen…,” he says like scolding a child.

The hand holding Derek tightens before dropping him to the ground. Cora kneels on her side of the bars, looks at him with worry. “Derek,” she whispers in a quiet voice.

He levels himself up on his hands, looks around from under his lashes. They’re surrounded, the twins behind Erica, Boyd and Isaac, who try their best not to look afraid. Derek locks eyes with Cora before sitting on his hinges. He can't quite believe what he’s seeing.

“But we’re forgetting our manners,” the guy continues with a fancy accent, “I’m Deucalion. These are my associates, Kali,” she smirks, “Ennis,” he growls, “and Aiden and Ethan,” they shift on their feet and cross their arms.

“And it’s very lovely of you to bring our dear friends here. They were quite the guests.” Erica's growl shots out of her throat like she was trying to hold it in. It makes Deucalion chuckle.

“Let me make my intentions clear. We’re a Pack of Alphas, and there’s an element here that deeply interest us. Don't go around believing it’s you, Derek Hale, you’re not even half of the Alpha your mother was. So we’re here for this other...investment. But since we’re already in town,” he pauses, comes closer to Derek, “we could use more hands in the Pack. Let’s be clear. You have only two choices : you join us,” he flicks the stick in his hands so it unfolds and clicks in place, “or you’re all dead.”

With a move so fast Derek can't entirely see it happen, he swings the stick between the bars and Cora yelps. A red gash appears on her left cheek.

Derek tries to get up to attack Deucalion, not a smart action he knows but the only thing he knows how to do in desperate times, but Kali kicks him behind the knees and he’s down again.

There’s a pained noise coming from the Sheriff behind him, and Derek stills.

That’s when a new sound comes from the front of the station and Derek’s eyes widen. Deucalion smiles.

It’s a heartbeat. And it’s not exactly the same but it’s still recognizable as Stiles’.

It's a tense minute after Derek finally gets frantically up on his feet again, until Kali comes back in the room with a struggling bunch of clothes, and she’s not delicate with her manhandling. She pushes Stiles on the ground, and Derek would have loved it if fate hadn't screw them _that_ much, because Stiles ends up right in front of his father’s cell.

It’s like watching a car wreck, Stiles looking up and locking eyes with his dad; the recognition in both of their eyes and the shock.

Stiles looks on the edge of losing it at seeing his dad in danger, the Sheriff just seems to be at his limit for the day. He just saw people grow claws and fangs, and there’s no mistaking this kid for his own.

Four years younger than last time he saw him.

But of course the Alphas know everything about it; and now Derek wonders if this witch was really an accident. But then what would the Alphas get out of it?

Stiles screams and jumps on his feet to reach through the bars. “Dad!”

Derek wishes he could unhear that desperation. It reminds him of Laura’s cries the night of the fire, when all he could do himself was stay silent and hope to die on the stop so he couldn't feel the pain anymore.

He forces himself to think of something else. The situation is desperate but Cora is here. Cora survived.

They’ll find a way to get out of this alive. They have to.

Of course, since it’s Derek’s life it doesn’t go easy. Thirty seconds after Stiles is thrown in the room, which seems like a short time but it actually very long when it’s composed of only a kid’s soft sobs, Deucalion laughs and gestures at his Alphas.

Derek turns around and freezes when Kali and the twins each grab on one of his Betas. “No,” he whispers and takes a step back, but there’s a whooshing sound and another yelp from Cora. So Derek stays very still and rakes his brain desperately for an escape plan.

“You’re gonna kill your Betas, Derek,” Deucalion says coldly, “we’ll start with one, and maybe you’ll see the beauty of it. The power,” he sounds crazy now, drunk on the memory of his fucked up massacre of his own Pack. Because Derek realizes that’s what must have happened.

One of the twin advances with Boyd, strong enough to hold both of his arms behind his back. Boyd struggles, they all do, but it’s no use. They’re still exhausted. Derek wonders if that was the point of taking them: making them weak and scared enough to run back to their Alpha. Make it back just to end up slaughtered.

Derek sees the fear in Boyd’s eyes, looks around and sees the same on Erica and Isaac’s face. He can’t look back at Cora and see the same, or maybe it would be disgust at seeing his brother so pathetically weak that he can’t fight for what’s his. He’s an Alpha too, but he feels as powerless as an Omega right now.

Boyd is in front of him and there’s something like begging in his eyes, or maybe it’s acceptance; or maybe Derek’s mind sees a myriad of different emotions to try and cope with what’s happening. What’s about to happen.

“Claws out, Derek,” Deucalion’s clinical voice comes from right behind him, and Derek takes a step back. Deucalion hums, and says, “You better, or I know someone who’s gonna be an orphan very soon.”

Derek sharply looks to his right at Stiles, only to see the kid look right back at him with an intense gaze, tears on his cheeks. A pained groan coming from the cell makes Stiles look inside at his dad and his eyes widen, a trail of blood running down the Sheriff's neck from shallow cuts made by Ennis' claws.

“Claws out,” Deucalion says again, but before he could add anything or Derek could comply or fight or do whatever he was struggling to decide to do, Stiles yells.

It starts like “dad” but devolves into a shout, then turns into a scream so powerful all wolves wince in the room. The lights flicker. Derek can’t process what’s happening, hands on his ears and eyes scrunched up in pain, but he’s turned towards Stiles and he swears he sees a golden aura around him, eyes that glow a different shade than the one of a Beta.

Then there’s a blast that throws all of them to the ground, and darkness.

It’s probably quiet on the other side of the ringing in his ears, too quiet. Derek’s head is spinning dangerously, something hot running from his ears and nose.

And it all goes to hell again: shouts that sounds like his and his Betas’ names being called, followed by explosions of light in the darkness that burn his eyes and the unmistakable sound of shots being fired.

In the after image of the flashes of light, he thinks he can see all the wolves down and trying to move, and where Stiles’ is supposed to be there’s emptiness. Erica, Boyd and Isaac can heal and Derek recognizes the Argents’ way of surging into a room so he figures they’re more or less safe since he got to talk truce and treaties with Chris and Allison two weeks ago.

A talk he's not keen on having again soon.

He crawls towards where he saw Stiles last. There’s still a lot of sounds in the room, someone who looks like Kali being thrown back by an arrow on her chest, a roar that's definitely Scott's. The ringing should have dissipated but there’s too much noise for it to really go away so Derek is still disorientated.

He manages to get to Stiles’ side, though, finds him unconscious with blood on his face, and he becomes frantic in his search for a pulse. He can’t hear, he can’t hear, it’s all he can think about, that and the fact that Stiles’ nose is bleeding heavily and he’s so tiny and looks so fragile and he’s down and unmoving.

Something eases in Derek’s chest when he feels a beat against his fingertips. He looks in the cell in the half darkness and sees the Sheriff alone, clutching his head and trying to get to his feet. He doesn’t seem hurt, only winded.

That’s when everything stops.

 

Derek slowly opens his eyes, savoring the warmth of the sunlight on him. He takes a deep breath, frowning when the familiar scent of the loft doesn’t reach his nose. Instead, it smells weirdly like cats and dogs.

He gasps, sits up straight as he opens his eyes and starts to try and get up from the cot he’s in. He crashes to the floor with a groan, body sore and legs trembling. His head is killing him.

The door is opened wildly, hitting the wall with a loud noise that makes Derek flinch and try to shift to defend himself.

“Wow, man, it’s me!” Scott’s voice comes from the doorway, “Calm down! You’re still–.”

“Wha’ happ’d?” Derek croaks out, coughing when the words grate his throat and turning to Scott who helps him get back on the cot.

“I don’t exactly know, man, it was pretty crazy last night,” Scott says when he takes a step back. Last night, and the sun is pretty high so Derek was out for a while. And his Betas–

“Erica, Boyd and Isaac are at my house, Cora, too. They weren’t as badly hit as you.”

Derek relaxes, then tenses up again because Stiles–

“Derek,” Deaton says from the other side of the open door, “glad to see you’re awake. I’m guessing you have quite a few questions about what happened, and I believe that I now have the answers to those,” the vet smiles mysteriously.

With the help of Scott, Derek walks in the other room. He hates feeling and appearing so helpless, but right now he can’t stand on his own two legs by himself. Still, he can’t keep in the growl that rises in his throat when Chris Argent walk in the examination room; the hunter doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Derek,” he greets calmly, and Derek nods before leaning against the metal table.

“Now that the Alpha Pack is dealt with,” Deaton starts, but Derek whips his head to look at him and raises a hand.

“Wait, what? Start from the beginning!”

The three others exchange a look, then Scott says, “I got a call from Stiles yesterday, he said you left in a hurry because of an emergency so I tracked you down with Chris and Allison. When we arrived at the station I heard Stiles scream, all the lights were out and you were all on the ground. We tried to warn you about the flash bombs,” he winces in sympathy, “but I guess you were too out of it to hear us.

“The Alphas attacked us but they were still weakened by whatever happened, so we managed to take them down and restrain them after a bit of a fight. Deaton said that Isaac and the others were going to recuperate quickly because they were farther away from Stiles and partly shielded by the Alphas that were holding them. Cora had the wall between the cells working for her. Mom called to tell me they’re up now, they’ll probably come by in a moment.”

Derek takes the time to process this. His Betas are alright. Really alright. He didn’t have to kill them, and the Alphas are gone so the threat is over. His _sister_ is _alive_. He still has trouble believing that. He relaxes a fraction, but not entirely; he still misses a part of the story.

“And Stiles?” he asks, tries to keep the worry out of his voice but Scott’s look lets him know he failed.

“Stiles has a stronger spark than even I knew about,” Deaton explains, “I believe the Alphas sensed it and tried to eliminate this threat indirectly: it’s very dangerous for a werewolf to try to harm a Spark.

“The witch they used probably thought that de-aging Stiles to a time when his power would’ve been latent was good enough. Luckily, it’s not how it works, and the emotional strain of everything that happened made Stiles’ energy blow up quite spectacularly. It’s why he was so exhausted afterwards, he used up all of his power at once. I’ve been meaning to train him for a while now but–”

“But he’s okay?” Derek prompts the vet again.

“He’s...he’ll need time to get back on his feet, but he’s not in immediate danger. His father is with him at the hospital.”

It’s all Derek needs to hear before he turns to the door. Stiles is in the hospital and the Sheriff–

Derek doesn’t even take a step away from the table before he falls to the floor.

Scott sighs.

 

There’s a few things that Derek doesn’t expect.

The Sheriff coming to him at the entrance of the hospital, for one, saying “Scott explained a few things to me. We have a lot to discuss, Hale, but I know you tried to protect Stiles and I’m grateful for that.”

Cora jumping into the car when they drive by the McCall's: he thought– he didn't know what he thought, but he didn't really think she really would want to be near him. The realization that she does hits him hard and all the emotions he was trying to keep away in preparation for the rejection threaten to drown him. He hand in his, from the backseat of the car, calms him down.

The knowing look in Scott’s eyes, also, when he drives Derek to Beacon Hills Memorials and supports his weight to Stiles’ door. “He’s asleep,” Melissa said at the front desk. She’s another thing he doesn’t expect: she’s soft and nice to him like he’s not this creature of nightmare that turned her son’s life upside down and put him in danger again and again.

He doesn’t expect Stiles to still look so fragile, pale and still, silent, heartbeat slow. Stiles is a force of nature, even when he’s scared he still takes space. Proves he exists and clings and suddenly you realize he’s in every part of your life.

He’s still a twelve years old, too, and Derek doesn’t really care how the Sheriff explained that one.

There’s one thing Derek knew would happen, though, something he tried to deny for some time now but has come to realize since Scott’s phone call yesterday.

It’s his shaking hands on the trip from Deaton’s to Stiles’ side, shallow and quick breaths of nervousness, of worry, heart beating painfully against his rib cage until he could finally see with his own eyes that Stiles is okay.

He sits next to the bed, Cora on the other side of the door, takes the tiny hand in his own. He wishes for Stiles to wake up as himself again, the him from now, the one that laughs and pushes Derek’s buttons, complains but never backs down, always help. The one that went out to look for Erica and Boyd.

This kid in the bed, he’s still grieving. Derek remembers what that’s like because his life is a never ending process of the five stages of grief. It’s unfair that Stiles has to relive that. Derek ignores the voice that says that it was unfair that he himself had to live through all that too, because there’s still a bigger voice telling him that he deserved this pain.

But then he thinks about Laura. Did Laura deserve to die? No, she didn’t, she was amazing and would’ve loved the Betas and Stiles, she would’ve known how to get Scott into her Pack. So if Laura didn’t deserve it, maybe, just maybe, Derek didn’t too. Maybe no outside force is punishing him again and again and it’s just coincidence, bad luck.

And Cora is still alive. She's there, and surely that must be a sign.

This hope in his heart, it’s a product of the little good things in his life among the bad in the last year or so. Erica’s laugh and her happiness about having her epilepsy gone. Isaac escaping the hell that was his home life. Boyd finding a new family instead of being so lonely. Finding Cora. And Stiles...just being there.

So Derek puts his forehead on Stiles’ hand and silently swears something to this kid that will wake up with the memory of his mom’s funeral still fresh, that will look at his dad and only feel misplaced guilt and fear for the man’s life, maybe sadness because the last time he remembers being home there were empty bottles and having to take care of both his father and himself.

He swears to be better. To be a better Alpha to his Betas, to be good to himself. He’ll make his family proud, the ones that aren’t there anymore to love him, and the ones that will help him if he learns how to ask them to. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, even Scott, maybe Lydia and Jackson if they want to. _Cora_.

And Stiles.

 

Melissa comes into the room five minutes later. She has a look on her face that makes Derek’s heart ache: a fond, motherly expression directed at Stiles sleeping form.

They stay silent for a few seconds, Melissa checking things that Derek doesn't really get. She’s the one to break the silence, glancing at where he’s still delicately holding Stiles hand.

“He’s just exhausted, he’ll be fine. He needs rest and a bit of help from our end to recuperate.” She smiles, then caresses Stiles’ head. His hair is long like it was a few days ago, when he was still seventeen.

“I never saw him much at that time,” she whispers, and Derek wonders if she even intends for him to hear it. “They became friends just before his mom died, Scott and Stiles, and I ran into him sometimes in the hospital while Claudia was here, but after that he stopped coming around to the house for a while. I think he couldn't bear it, seeing me with Scott just after.”

Derek suddenly gets it. It’s still hard, some days, to watch families walking together on the street. It still feels like betrayal, on his worse days, to have a new Pack, to build himself a new family.

He never saw much of Stiles and Melissa’s interactions, but from the look on her face and the way he talked about her once or twice, it’s clear she’s a mother figure.

Melissa sighs, turns to him with a tired smile, and leaves the room.

Derek is alone again.

But not for long, because a minute after Melissa’s visit, the Sheriff enters the room and sits down heavily on the other side of the bed.

“I left the station as soon as I could without it looking too suspicious. I told them a distant cousin sent me her kid for a few days and that he had a ‘delicate constitution’ and collapsed five minutes after arriving.” He sighs. “It's stupid.”

Derek doesn’t know what’s happening today, why these people talk to him like they don’t mind sharing their thoughts with him, or maybe like they forget he’s in the room with them, but the Sheriff’s apparently not done with what he has to say.

“I didn’t recognize him immediately,” he confesses, “it took me five seconds because he had a buzzcut back then.” He leans over the bed and pushes Stiles’ hair back like Melissa did a few minutes ago. There’s a deep tenderness in the Sheriff’s worn out face. “I regret a lot of things, but nothing more than that year,” he whispers, and this one Derek knows he definitely wasn’t supposed to hear it. He pretends like he didn’t, stays as still and quiet as he can, looks away from the tear making its way down the man’s cheek.

There’s a sniffle, a throat being cleared and a rustle of clothes, and when Derek looks back the Sheriff is composed and sitting back in his chair.

“So, Hale,” he starts, and Derek feels as nervous as before an exam, but there’s a pause and the Sheriff doesn’t say anything else, just studies him. He pointedly looks at where Derek has Stiles’ hand in his own, but Derek refuses to let go.

“Do we need to have _that_ kind of talk? You know he’s still seventeen, right?”

“I–” Derek starts defensively, but breathes deep and starts again more calmly. “For now all I want is to be sure he’s alright. The rest will wait until he’s older and only if he wants it too.” It’s by far the most eloquent answer he could have given, because even before the fire Derek was clumsy with words, but the Sheriff still seems to relax.

“So, werewolves huh?” he says next, “Didn’t see that one coming. I would love to wonder how Stiles ended up mixed up with this, but I know my son…” he looks intently at Derek, waiting for him to react so he can know if Stiles was a willing participant in his involvement or not.

Derek carefully chooses his words. “My uncle–” he starts, but he has no idea how much of the story the Sheriff knows because Scott couldn’t have had the time to say much.

“When Scott got bit and turned, Stiles helped him. And then he helped me.”

“But he accused you of murder,” the Sheriff states. Derek remembers that night pretty clearly, since he got impaled on the Alpha’s claws, which later turned out to be his uncle’s. He tries his best not to think about all that.

“He did. Desperate way to cover up _werewolves_.”

The Sheriff hums. “I know he had the best intentions by lying to me but...I still wish he didn’t.”

There’s a knock on the door that stops Derek from trying to find something to say, and he’s grateful. Also, he can smell who’s behind the door and it makes him sigh in relief.

Erica gets her head through the door and quietly asks if they can come in for a minute. The Sheriff nods, and the room is full with his three Betas and Scott. They look tired and sit down immediately where they can, legs shaking, but they look better than expected. Cora confidently walks in and stands next to her brother. It makes him straighten and smile, warmth in his chest.

The silence is awkward for a minute, before Scott starts talking about inane stuff, and then there’s jokes being thrown around and memories being exchanged. It’s nice, Derek thinks, Cora's hand on his shoulder and his free on finding its way to it. The Sheriff looks at these teenagers with a building affection.

There’s a lot to discuss, later, about the Pack and trust and magic and getting the Sheriff into the fold, but it’s a good start. They just have to wait for Stiles to wake up, now.

 

It takes a day for it to happen. And Stiles still hasn’t woken up. They’re all in the room again, the Betas allowed to visit for a few minutes. Maybe it’s not a coincidence, that almost everyone Stiles loves is in the room.

It’s the weirdest thing. There’s no colored fog, no sparks, sound effects, wind, vortex, whatever. They blink and Stiles is seventeen again, like he was never anything else than seventeen, their brains _knowing_ there was a twelve years old in the bed a second before but unable to grasp the change.

This is going to be fun to explain to the hospital staff.

Derek and the Sheriff get on their feet at the same time to hover over the bed, soft gasps heard from the other teens in the room. Derek has a second to think someone should tell Lydia that Stiles is back to himself, but then he realizes...has anyone even told Lydia that Stiles was even de-aged in the first place?

He doesn’t know her that well, but he’s pretty sure she’s going to kill Scott for not telling her.

Derek looks down at Stiles peaceful face, the face he loves, and it’s amazing to see the differences and similarities with his younger self. He changed so much and so little at the same time.

Stiles opens his eyes, a flutter of his eyelids and pupils blown wide that delicately adjust to the light and focus on the faces in front of him. There’s a second of nothing, Stiles just staring up at them, before there’s a frown on his face.

Tears start spilling from his eyes and he grips both his dad and Derek’s sleeves before letting out the most heartbreaking whine. “Dad,” he says, tugging on his father’s sleeve until he can bury himself in the crook of his neck, half up in bed. Derek heart breaks in million pieces when Stiles sobs loudly, probably crying like he never let himself since his mom’s death.

The others in the room don’t know if they should leave or not, but Derek just gestures at them to exit quietly. He can’t move himself, Stiles making it clear that he won’t let him go anywhere at the moment.

It takes a few minutes for Stiles to calm down. Then before they know it, he’s asleep again.

Derek leaves the room, thinking that it’s already a miracle that the Sheriff let him stay all the time with Stiles and him. He desperately doesn’t want to overanalyze the grip that Stiles had on his sleeve a moment ago, because it’s hope, and he knows damn well how easy it is to crush it.

He’ll wait for Stiles to feel better, and then they’ll see where they stand with their feelings. Maybe Derek will be blessed by having them returned, maybe he only found the strength to fall in love again just to have Stiles saying “sorry” and moving on. Either way, he thinks that it’s a big step in itself for him, even if Stiles doesn’t share the sentiment, so he holds on to that thought.

Outside the door, in the chairs lining up the wall, the Pack waits.

Lydia is in the middle of an angry monologue directed at a sheepish looking Scott, along the lines of “why the fuck didn’t you tell me you stupid ass” with a little more class because Lydia is like that. Allison pats Scott’s hand with an amused smile. Cora is talking with Isaac on the other side of Erica and Boyd who sit as far away from the huntress as they can; and Derek can sense the tension in the air, but he’s amazed that all of them sit in the same space without tearing at each other’s throat.

Worry for Stiles did that. And also a bit of fear of interrupting Lydia Martin in the middle of her justified scolding of Scott.

“How is he?” Erica asks. Boyd looks at Derek too, and he suddenly remembers something that was left unsaid, the first night when they were all at his apartment. Before they left, these two weren’t that interested by Stiles’ well being, something changed that.

“He’s asleep again,” he answers, and their shoulders drop.

“He needs the beauty sleep anyway,” Isaac says, “he doesn’t look half as good as when he was twelve.”

It’s funny to see how Isaac manages to both worry and hate that he worries for Stiles. Whatever grief the both of them have with each other, they’ll have to settle it. Because Derek intends to have a functioning Pack in the near future.

It starts with him being a functioning Alpha, he knows, so he looks at his Betas, “Go back to the apartment, catch some more rest, I’ll call you when he’s home.” Stiles should be sent back as soon as he’s awake again.

Erica looks ready to argue, but Boyd tugs at her hand and they share a look. She nods, and the three of them start to walk away but Derek stops Isaac to give him the keys of the Camaro. He looks at them with wide eyes, but he doesn’t say anything for fear that Derek will change his mind, and follows the other two.

Cora stands and looks at him. “I'm staying,” she says, “and I'm going to go get some food.”

Derek smiles at her, watches her leave with the happiness of knowing she'll be back soon.

“We should talk, when he’s okay again,” Derek directs at Scott. The three remaining teens look at him, Allison and Lydia with calculating gaze but no hostility. Scott thinks for a second before agreeing. Derek sits down next to them, leaving an empty chair between Scott and himself. They stay silent for a few seconds.

Then Lydia sits down. Right next to him.

He feels warm inside. He wonders what’s that feeling.

 

Derek is in the middle of bantering with his sister when there's a knock on the door. They share a look because they both know who it is, and they had a _talk_ last night. A big, emotional talk, and there's still a lot to say and build back between them but Cora _knows_.

Derek opens the door, thankful that the others are out for some shopping and even more thankful when Cora takes her coat and squeezes herself past Stiles with a meaningful “See you later!”

“Uh,” Stiles says, watching her leave, “Cora, heh?” he smiles.

Derek sidesteps to invite him in.

He's feeling very awkward at the moment, because he's been preparing for that particular talk but he's painfully disarmed now that Stiles is actually here.

“Want...something to eat? Drink?” he offers, and Stiles shakes his head.

“I remember most of what happened,” he says, looking away from Derek. They're both standing and Derek wonders what would make the situation more uncomfortable: staying up or sitting down. But Stiles doesn't move so he stays where he is.

“Yeah?” he prompts, and Stiles looks back at him.

“I'm sorry, about...,” he gestures vaguely before putting his hands in his pockets, a nervous gesture he stopped doing months ago. “Blowing you all up.” He sucks on his lips.

“Not your fault,” Derek starts, but Stiles interrupts him.

“But it was, mostly,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I saw you as a threat. Kinda. I was scared so my power considered all the wolves in the room as dangerous, that's why my dad was alright. Mostly alright,” he concedes. Derek doesn't see why this fact pushes Stiles to apologize. He was twelve and scared for his dad and pushed into a world he didn't understand.

“I could've killed you,” his voice shakes.

“But you didn't,” Derek counters, lame argument but still, it's true. He takes a deep breath, because it's now or never. “Stiles, I–”

“I love you,” Stiles interrupts him again, and it's infuriating because damn it, that was Derek's line! “I realized, when I woke up and I saw you there, it was weird, you know? Or you don't,” he laughs, “I still had all those feelings in me,” he continues more seriously, “fresh memories from that time, my mom's death...”

Stiles breathes again, tears welling up in his eyes, “But also, I felt the difference, uh, between the absence of any feelings for you, except maybe confusion and terror,” he tilts his head to the side, “and– and _this_. This love.”

He looks back at Derek now, stripped of all fear. He's ready for anything, but he's not scared of it, not even rejection.

Derek's face stays neutral, he know it does because he has hours of poker face practice behind him. Staring down enemies, it's what he does best, and in the last few years he considered his emotions as the biggest threat, so he's used to push them down and conceal them. Except he's trying to change that.

Stiles falters for a second when he sees Derek's lack of response, but then Derek tears his walls down. It's huge and it's painful. It's hard, too, and he knows the walls will be back up again in a second and he'll have to bring them down again and again, day after day until he's worn them out enough.

This moment is the first step.

He smiles, it's small and shy but it's there, and then it grows bigger when Stiles looks at him in wonder.

“I– I love you too,” Derek says, the words being the easiest and the most difficult thing to set free.

Stiles breathes in sharply, then smiles too. The tears in his eyes start to fall down his cheeks, but it's happy tears.

They close the distance between them. Having Stiles against him, his body pressing along his, his lips on his, it's–

It's like lying in a patch of sun. It's like a sunrise inside of him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments would be the best christmas presents for me, even if it's not christmas anymore when you read this :3  
> On [tumblr](http://kinsbournescream.tumblr.com)


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